<p>My backyard, small but perfect &#8211; a place to lounge mid-afternoon during the summer months. Two new turquoise-blue muskoka chairs make backyard lounging perfect. Everyday I would sit with my bare feet touching the grass or crosslegged on the chair studying, reflecting and writing. My studies were often interrupted by my curious little dog playfully pouncing on grasshoppers, a squirrel running along the fence line or flying insects. Butterflies were plenty. They were unlike the buzz or crawl of the other insects. Their descent into my backyard was like royalty, gracefully fluttering to the sound of trumpets and strings. I could not help but stop what I was doing to watch them &#8211; moving from blades of grass to flowers until their final ascent up and beyond my yard. I was mesmerized by their beauty and elegance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p>
<p>Having lost my grandmother at the beginning of July, I was contemplating the idea that butterflies are a sign from God. <!--more-->Either way, the butterflies descending and ascending in my backyard each afternoon was very much a comfort to me. Each time royalty (in the form of a butterfly) entered my backyard, I hoped one of them would land close to me and, dare I say, on me. I longed for this close exchange &#8211; a feeling that a butterfly chose me and wanted to parade her beauty for me alone. I would stop everything, still my body and my thoughts, surrendering to her wonder. I would imagine the light pressure of her legs on my skin &#8211; a touch so delicate you would have to direct all your senses to her movement. I wished I could glide my finger across one of her wings as she raised them like a canopy &#8211; touching each other and then lowering them slowly, allowing me the joy of viewing different angles of her patterned wing design. Her wings like feathers but silkier. Tempted to clasp my hands around her, I was hoping she would delay her departure. Knowing that her majestic presence would cease at her capture, I knew that I must let her fly away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p>
<p>Sometimes my pen takes me on a detour. What I began writing on a wintery day turned into a warm memory of sunshine and love. My heart is longing for the magical moments life gives us. It also grieves with pain and joy the need to hold onto loved ones, beauty, vacation, sunshine, nights made full by friendships. Much like the butterfly perched near me, I felt chosen &#8211; special. Her presence lasts but a moment, creating a sense of loss and longing (oh but a wonderful memory she imprinted on my soul).</p>
<figure id="attachment_1973" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1973" style="width: 634px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img class="alignnone wp-image-1973" src="https://thesoulwhispersblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/img_2844.jpeg" alt="IMG_2844" width="634" height="471" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-1973" class="wp-caption-text"><em>If only we could pause time, turning magical moments into more.</em></figcaption></figure>

…but a moment
